


A Spark

by Kaatiba



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Asperger Syndrome, Autism, Autistic Spencer Reid, Canon Autistic Character, Canon Compliant, Episode Fix-it, Episode Tag, Episode: s06e16 Coda, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Music, Piano, Season/Series 06, Slight Canon Divergence, Team as Family, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:28:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23920831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaatiba/pseuds/Kaatiba
Summary: Re-make of s06e16: Coda, where the team pays a little more attention to Reid and fully appreciate the power of his unique connection to Sammy Sparks.
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner & Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan & Spencer Reid, Emily Prentiss & Spencer Reid, Spencer Reid & David Rossi, Spencer Reid & The BAU Team, The BAU Team - Relationship
Comments: 32
Kudos: 878





	1. Coda

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, I just wanted my other favorite characters to get to see my main favorite character have a moment.

_“Music expresses that which cannot be put into words and that which cannot remain silent”_  
― **Victor Hugo**

\-----------

“No one’s talked to the witness yet?” Reid scrunched his eyebrow and spun lightly in his chair to face the others. 

Seaver pointed out the obvious flaw in that. 

Hotch nodded slightly, “Sammy’s autistic.” Reid sat up a bit straighter at that, attention snagged as Hotch continued, “Getting him to tell us what happened isn’t going to be easy.”

Immediately, facts and statistics and anecdotes about autism and neurodivergent communication styles flooded Reid’s mind, but he noticed Seaver looking at him funny at that statement, and his older teammates subtly side-eyeing him as they prepared to grab their go-bags and head out, so he opted for silence. No need to draw more attention to himself just yet. 

\-----------

Spencer was just getting going on a rant about Doctor Who and its original authorship when Seaver interrupted him mid-sentence with an “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” he asked, genuinely confused.

“For asking,” with that, the new agent spun on her heel and walked back into the main cabin area with her coffee. 

Spencer might not always pick up on every social cue, but he could tell he’d just been dismissed. And while the occasional strict “Reid” from Hotch or another one of his friends in a time of crisis was sometimes warranted, he couldn’t help but feel a bit stung by the new girl’s unnecessary rudeness. 

They weren’t close enough yet for teasing to feel harmless, and he felt his mood dim a bit as he sipped his freshly made black coffee (with many sweeteners.)

Regardless, he made his way back to the cabin as well as Garcia popped up via webcam to tell them Charlie Sparks was the victim of the gunshot wound. Reid folded his legs up under him, in a somewhat soothing position, setting himself across from Emily and Morgan. The couch next to Seaver where he often sat was empty, but he preferred a more familiar face. 

A minute later, she perked up to say, “I hate to say it, but could Sammy be our unsub?”

Rossi responded to the stupid question, while Reid felt a stab of annoyance shoot through him. The same bristle he felt whenever someone implied schizophrenia or any kind of mental illness led to violence and untrustworthiness. 

Emily briefly caught his eye across from him, but he quickly turned to Garcia’s voice so his eyes wouldn’t give away his growing ill will towards JJ’s temporary replacement. 

After that they pondered the unfortunate financial situation facing Lafayette Parish, Louisiana and its residents and its possible motive before lapsing into contemplative silence as Garcia logged off and wished them good luck. 

Reid was just chugging the last of his coffee when Hotch straightened, “When we get there, I’d like Rossi to take Seaver and investigate the Sparks’ music shop,” Reid agreed that the most veteran team member should oversee the most green agent, “Reid, Prentiss, Morgan, and I’ll visit the Sparks’ residence before returning to the station. Morgan and I’ll focus on the forensics, while Reid and Prentiss can begin working with Sammy.”

Reid nodded. As the most unthreatening male member of the team, he was used to being paired with a female partner to approach vulnerable or easily spooked witnesses at times. He also knew that in this case, his knowledge of autism- both what he’s learned through research and through a lifetime of having Aspberger’s- would be of special use in the case. 

Emily gave him a small smile before turning to Hotch, scrunching her expressive eyebrows, “Why isn’t Sammy at the station?”

But it was Reid who answered, “Probably because for autistic people, especially children, strict schedules and routines are often key to functioning and maintaining comfort, that’s why Sammy still went to school following the abduction, to stick to his routine, so putting Sammy in a completely unfamiliar environment and setting while also introducing him to a bunch of strangers would be too much sensory overload and change. If we meet Sammy on familiar ground, he’ll be that much more at ease, and while we should avoid upsetting him by forcing him to linger near the forensic evidence, being in the house where the abduction happened might very well help trigger his memory.”

Hotch just shrugged and nodded. 

\----------------------

The four agents sat in the dark SUV en route to the Sparks’ house. Reid let his mind wander a bit as he looked at the rows of beat up screen porches and spanish moss covered trees. It was muggy out, and while he could deal with the dry heat of a Las Vegas climate, his sweater felt a bit sticky against his skin, and it made him want to squirm. He let his leg shake frantically. Emily, who sat next to him in the backseat, gave him a glance, but didn’t comment. 

\---------------

Hotch had briefly pulled him aside after they’d stepped off the jet. 

“Reid, if you’re willing, I’d like you to take the lead when it comes to Sammy. I don’t want you to feel singled out, but no one else on this team will be able to empathize and understand him like I think you might be able to. That being said, if you feel that is presumptuous and inappropriate reasoning or makes you uncomfortable in any way, let me know.”

“I- no, no, that’s fine with me, that’s reasonable considering the..that’s fine.” He gave one of his usual closed mouth smiles.

Hotch looked like he might pat Reid on the arm, but then thought better of it. Reid felt relieved.

\----------------------

They walked into the Sparks house. It wasn’t overly flashy on the outside, but the interior showed some wealth that in comparison with the rest of the neighborhood, seemed positively luxurious. 

The lead local LEO met Hotch at the door. Everyone shook the detective’s hand, but Spencer slid his way past the foyer before he could get caught as well. Reid caught the way a local cop in the other room shot him a disgruntled look. He was used to it, especially in rural or tight knit communities, the way his body language and aversion to touch was often perceived as stand-offish and rude. 

“He’s upstairs?”

Reid hardly waited for an assent before hurrying up to what he assumed was Sammy’s bedroom. He didn’t want to wait around or look behind to see one of his friends give the LEOs a patented “Sorry about him” look behind his back. 

They always assumed he never saw those, but he always did. 

\------------

He turned the handle on a second-floor room, Emily now at his back, and opened it to see bright purple walls littered with crayon drawings. As predicted, the room was extremely tidy and organized. He could see occupational therapy blocks and toys in boxes against the walls, and on top of an abnormally well made bed for a young boy sat Sammy. 

Next to him, was an unfamiliar woman. Reid noted the woman’s closed off body language and the way she sat farther away from Sammy than necessary on the bed. He knew some autistic children were touch averse, but the woman looked distinctly uncomfortable, like a fish out of water.

Something like relief flitted across her face when the two adults entered the room.

“Hello, I’m SSA Emily Prentiss with the FBI, and this is my partner, Dr. Spencer Reid,” he nodded politely.

“Hi, um, I’m Lizzy, I’m Charlie’s sister..They called me since I’m..technically his legal guardian right now.” She frowned a bit at that. 

More or less ignoring the woman’s obvious need for reassurance, Spencer slowly approached Sammy, hands in his pocket, voice soft, “Hi Sammy. I’m Dr. Spencer Reid.” As he got nearer, he crouched down and pulled over a soft bean bag to sit on, so he could be eye level with the boy. 

He watched for a minute, not surprised when he got little to no response, and he watched intently as the boy continued scribbling with a crayon on a sheet of paper balanced on his knee with a clipboard. 

Emily asked softly, pointing at the drawing, “Is he trying to tell us something?” 

Reid considered. “Sammy,” he spoke again, leaning forward subtly, eyes intent, but voice still soft, “we’re looking for your mom and your dad.” The boy’s hazel eyes were turned away, looking off into the distance, but Reid knew he could hear him. 

He glanced at the shape made over and over again on the paper. It looked like a “V” or an “L”.

“Did ‘L’ take them?” he asked. The boy simply started to trace the same shape in the air in front of him. Reid heard Prentiss step away to quietly ring Garcia and ask her to track names with the letter ‘L’ in connection with the family.

Reid simply sat and intently watched Sammy’s movement. He was surprised by himself. Normally, his brain was always running way ahead of everyone else’s in terms of recognizing patterns, leaving him with a feeling of rush and impatience, but right now, Reid felt calm and collected and patient. 

Reid could hear voices drifting from downstairs. He figured that the assessment of the scene was already over, and it sounded like the local techs were beginning to clean up the area. 

Suddenly, Reid’s attention was brought back as Sammy slowly raised his hands and began to press his fingers down across the paper.

“Is he mimicking typing?” Prentiss questioned.

“I don’t think so,” Reid responded, tilting his head, “I think he’s trying to play something. There was a piano downstairs in the foyer next to the crime scene..”

He looked up at Emily, the question in his eyes. In turn, she turned to Liz, “Do you mind if we-?”

“Whatever helps,” the woman shrugged.

\--------------------

Emily went down to explain the idea to Hotch and Morgan who lingered after the dried blood was scoured and the wall and floors were disinfected. 

After that, Reid led Sammy to guide him back down the stairs, wooden train in hand and Reid standing a few feet back. 

He vaguely listened as Prentiss introduced Liz to the others and walked around the other side of the piano, entranced as Sammy placed his train on the top of the instrument, runnin it back and forth against the grain.

It went quiet, and they all watched as Sammy gingerly took a seat at the bench. Slowly, Reid set down his own security object, his iconic leather messenger bag, “Sammy? Would it be alright if I sat here?” When he got no objection, he lowered himself. 

On a bit of a whim, watching Sammy out of the corner of his eye, Reid placed his long fingers on the white keys and played a simple major scale with his right hand. He glanced back at his team members, all of whom gazed back curiously. 

To all of their surprise, Sammy responded in kind, and copied Spencer’s notes an octave or so higher. Morgan, Hotch, and Prentiss all looked silently impressed, and Spencer just smiled genuinely, eyes softening further, “Woah, Sammy, you’ve been holding out on me,” he teased. 

He tried again, this time with a decreasing scale. Again, Sammy responded. 

“I didn’t know you could play, pretty boy,” Morgan joked. 

“I can’t- well I haven’t before, but it’s essentially all math.” Out of his periphery, he saw the three of them share exasperated, but fond and knowing looks. 

Suddenly, Spencer had an idea. 

“Sammy, how about you play this note,” he played an ‘F’, “for yes, and, this note,” he played a ‘C’, “for no..Does that sound like something you could do?” 

After a breath, Sammy picked up his pointer finger and stabbed down the F key. Spencer could almost feel the excitement of the team members behind him, and had to fight to keep a grin off his own face. “Yeah! Exactly, just like that.”

He leaned in a bit, voice serious again, “Now, Sammy, do you remember when the man came and took your parents away?” The boy hesitantly played the note again, then hit it several more times before dissolving into a fluid melody that he seemed very familiar with. He began playing with his left hand as well, and they all listened, entranced as he began a haunting and delicate melody. 

“Sammy-” Reid interrupted regretfully, “I don’t understand, does this song mean something to you?”

Slowly, Sammy’s fingers lifted off the keys, and he just stared down for a moment. Reid worried he’d lost him, until he sensed his hand moving below. Eyes wide, he watched as the boy cautiously placed his small palm to cover Spencer’s much larger hand, gingerly lifting upward, and Spencer immediately helped by lifting his own hand and following when Sammy led it and placed it back on the keys. 

He gulped a bit, scared to spook Sammy, and concentrated as Sammy used his own fingers to push down Spencer’s, first sloppily, then showing Spencer how to play it himself with his own hand. 

After two codas of the same bar, Spencer’s fingers carefully mimicked the smaller boy’s and their melodies harmonized, octaves apart, filling the room with the simple, but eerie and repetitive melody. 

\---------------------

By the time Hotch said his name, Reid had lost track of time. He and Sammy had played the same motif over and over again in harmony, until Reid’s fingers acted without needing to think. It was like being in a trance.

For Reid, who struggled with the flow of conversations even on a good day, the simplicity of this connection and communication was amazing. Reid trafficked in words, had millions of them stored in his head, and had to use them every day in his job, talking to his colleagues, to LEOs, to witnesses, but it always took something out of him to express himself in conversation. 

He didn’t realize quite how much daily small talk and niceties had taken out of him until he felt this wonderfully uncomplicated and pure connection. Was this how easy conversing (and not just rambling) was supposed to feel to everyone else?

He was drawn from his reverie by his boss and friends, apparently coming back down stairs. He hadn’t really noticed them leave in the first place. “Check this out,” Morgan handed him the laminated cards used to teach Sammy his daily routine.

Prentiss continued, “Sammy probably already knows when he met the unsub.”

Reid flipped through the cards, berating himself for missing such an obvious connection. “Of course! Sammy sees his life in pictures, in symbols.” He excitedly pulled the crayon drawings of Sammy’s out of his pocket, seeing the ‘L’ shape from an entirely new perspective. “It’s not an ‘L’ at all!”

“It’s the hands of a clock,” said Hotch seriously as Reid flipped to the corresponding time in the cards. 

“It’s 3:00,” Prentiss said, eying the drawing on the floor.

“And at 2:30, Sammy went to the music store,” Morgan finished. 

At that, they all looked at each other before moving into action. 

\-----------------------------

They all filed into the Sparks’ music store where Rossi and Seaver were going over video tape footage. 

“Dave, fast forward to 3:00,” Hotch ordered. 

They all gathered around to watch the screen, which showed Sammy being led into the store by his mother.

“They switched the music to classical music,” Morgan noticed.

“More calming for Sammy?” Prentiss suggested. 

Reid stepped away from them to watch as Sammy placed himself at a keyboard in the center of the showroom and began playing their melody. His eyes didn’t quite catch Reid’s, but he could tell the boy was imploring him to understand. 

Morgan said, “That’s the same song-” right as Reid exclaimed, “Of course! He’s been trying to tell us all along who took his parents!” Reid felt so proud of Sammy’s ingenuity he wanted to burst with it. 

He ran back to the security footage. That man,” he pointed out the grainy image of the delivery man, “comes in at the same time everyday, has a schedule of his own!”

Hotch nodded grimly, “That’s our unsub.”

\------------------------

It was over. Bill Thomas was dead. So was Charlie Sparks. Two fathers lost in one day. It was a sour victory. 

The only thing that softened the edge was Sammy’s ability to pat his mother on the shoulder comfortingly as she grieved and hugged him. 

\---------------------

They all began to head back to the station, so that Alison could give her statement to the police, and so the BAU could collect the rest of their unit and belongings before heading back to Quantico. 

Spencer began following Morgan, Hotch, and Emily back to the same SUV they’d used earlier, but to his surprise, he felt a hesitant touch. Spencer squinted against the sun to look down, where he saw Sammy who tapped him once, his mother behind him. They were walking towards a police cruiser. 

He looked back towards Morgan who waved him off, smiling softly, “You can hitch another ride, It’s fine.”

“We’ll meet you back at the station,” Hotch confirmed. Emily touched his arm softly before following as well. 

With that, Reid followed Mrs. Sparks and Sammy back to the nearest police cruiser. 

“Mrs. Sparks, I’m so sorry for your loss, my name is Dr. Spencer Reid…”

\-----------------

The rest of the team watched through the conference room windows as a shaking Mrs. Sparks hugged a surprised looking Spencer and said something sincere to him, making him blush. 

They all pretended to take down evidence while they watched Reid kneel down and say something to Sammy. 

“You know, that was really something,” Emily piped up to the room at large.

“What?” Seaver asked, frowning, having missed most of the case’s action. 

“The connection between the kid and the kid?” Rossi guessed.Hotch nodded. 

“You shoulda seen ‘em together Rossi, I can’t believe he got through to him quite like that,” Morgan jumped in, looking a bit smug. 

“If anyone could do it, it’s our boy wonder,” Rossi said in a sarcastic tone, though his gaze was soft as he watched Reid say his goodbyes to the family, exchanging a business card with Alison Sparks. 

\------------------

The next weekend, Prentiss and Garcia were enjoying a girl’s movie night in Garcia’s flat. It wasn’t really the same without JJ, but they were trying to include Ashley as well, and they had popcorn and rom-coms. 

After the credits rolled, Emily went on a long, slightly tipsy ramble recounting the parts of their previous case the other girls hadn’t been there for. 

Penelope sat up so fast, she nearly spilled what was left of her pink wine.

“I have the perfect idea!”

\------------------

When Reid walked into the office on Monday, he immediately paused, sensing something odd. Garcia, brightly dressed as ever, looked practically buzzing with energy and excitement. “Morning my lovely!”

Emily also sidled up to him with a slightly more coy smile fixed on her face, “Have a good weekend?” Morgan just smirked at him from behind his coffee mug and Seaver sat at her own desk, watching the scene unfold. Reid noticed that even Hotch and Rossi were hovering outside their offices with a view of the bullpen below. Obviously they all knew something he did not.

He sipped his coffee and approached his office suspiciously, nodding at Garcia as he passed. 

Finally, he saw what was sitting on his desk chair in the middle of his cubicle. It was a long rectangular box with an image of a Yamaha keyboard on it. On top of the cardboard box was a big christmas bow.

“I-” he didn’t know what to say, but he grinned, turning to Garcia. “Did you?”

“We all did,” Garcia beamed at him. 

They all laughed at what he assumed was the dumbstruck expression on his face. “For me?” he asked. 

“That’s a pretty stupid question for a genius,” Morgan said, and they all laughed. This time, he laughed too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can you tell i dislike Seaver?


	2. Sonata Pathetique

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reid surprises and delights the team with his new piano skills

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set sometime before Emily "dies"

The team was having their now-monthly pasta and wine dinner party at Rossi’s  ~~house~~ mansion. Everytime the team gathered around his large marble island talking loudly, not using coasters properly, spilling drops of his best red vintage on the white upholstered bar stools, he’d moan and complain loudly, but they all knew how much Rossi secretly enjoyed having his large home filled with warmth and laughter. No one on the team dared pity the thrice-divorced author, but they knew deep down he got lonely by himself in that big house with no one around. 

Multiple times, Morgan tried to convince Rossi to adopt a dog or cat, bragging about how well-behaved Clooney was. Reid would pipe in with statistics about mental health and pet ownership. Even Prentiss would throw in a line about Sergio sometimes, while Garcia squealed at the mental image of Agent Rossi holding a tiny black kitten.  Even Hotch had to crack a smile at the withering look Rossi gave Garcia when she told him he’d make “an excellent cat lady”.

Now, everyone had eaten, and they were all lounging around in Rossi’s living room stuffed from too much linguini, but happier for it. Morgan was reclined on the middle of the large leather couch, and he pulled his left arm around Garcia’s shoulders as she sat next to him.  “Mmm, I could get used to this,” she purred in a familiar tone, her face just a bit pinker than usual. Derek just smiled down at her and squeezed, “Always a place for you by my side, Baby Girl.” 

“You know Garcia’s always the one who gets to call dibs on you,” Spencer joked from where he was curled up to the right of Derek on the other side of the large couch. His knees were curled up to his chest, and he hugged a throw pillow to his chest. His polka dot socks were showing since Rossi had chastised him for trying to put his “dirty old Converse” on “fine, Italian leather.”  Derek raised his thick eyebrows in challenge, “Oh yeah, Pretty Boy?”

“Yes, that’s what I-” before Spencer took note of the mischievous glint in Morgan’s eye, the man had already wrapped his hand around Spencer’s ankle, and started pulling it towards him until the younger man’s legs were both draped across Derek’s lap. Spencer sputtered indignantly to everyone’s amusement, but actually eased into the position, enjoying the connection.

Emily smiled fondly at the scene of Morgan cuddling up with his two favorite people. It was as close to a human dogpile as they could get and still maintain some sense of professionalism in front of Hotch. It was also nice to see Reid feeling comfortable with tactile comfort.  It didn’t take a profiler to note the way in which Reid was both averse to touch, but also touch starved. Aside from maybe JJ, Emily knew Derek was the only person Reid was comfortable enough to get away with a move like that. 

Though she and Reid’s relationship had come leaps and bounds from where they began, and she loved Reid like a little brother, she knew she’d never be able to touch the kind of attachment Spencer had to Derek.  She smiled warmly at Morgan when glanced her way and took a sip of her Bailey’s on the rocks. At first, she’d been tempted to mock Rossi when she found it in his alcohol cabinet, but she couldn’t pretend she didn’t rather enjoy the cloyingly sweet taste. If Reid drank, she thought he might’ve liked it. But as it was, she was proud of his total sobriety, and he looked content enjoying his third or fourth glass of pink lemonade. 

That was another surprising drink to find in Rossi’s kitchen. Emily had seen some crazy things in her lifetime (she’d literally been a spy), but somehow it was still hard to imagine the grouchy, older connoisseur of fine things enjoying a glass of  _ pink  _ Minute Maid in his free time. 

She and Hotch had shared a small smirk when he’d pulled it out for Spencer, knowing he’d stocked up on something sugary and non-alcoholic just for Reid. Even Rossi, or especially Rossi, couldn’t hide his soft spot for the kid no matter how many eye rolls he feigned. 

Across from her, Hotch, looking like a fish out of water in his polo shirt, nursed his neat whiskey and chatted with Dave about something - possibly the cheesy Italian opera playing on his fancy surround sound system. 

She turned to Ashley, sitting next to her. She still wasn’t quite sure what to make of the new agent. On the one hand, Emily was slow to trust and didn’t wear her heart on her sleeve like some of her colleagues, but she also knew what it was like to feel like the new girl or outsider of the BAU.

Emily felt a stab of pain at JJ’s absence. Something about Seaver’s own pretty blonde hair and big blue eyes made Emily long for JJ more than ever, but she knew it’d be petty to resent Ashley for a physical resemblance she couldn’t help.  So she reached over to nudge her playfully. “Hey, you think we could find the controls to the music and change it from- well, whatever the hell this is?”

Seaver took a sip of her wine, “I think it’s Pavarotti,” she whispered, glancing back at her adopted new mentor so he wouldn’t hear her disparaging his “heritage.” 

“Well, whatever his name is, do you wanna help me put him out of his misery?”

Seaver smiled hesitantly, “sure.” 

The two women slunk out of their respective armchairs and meandered towards the kitchen under the guise of refilling their drinks. “This must be it,” Emily murmured walking towards what looked like a control panel built into the wall next to the pantry door. “But how do I change it?”  Seaver just shrugged and pulled a beer from the fridge, “No clue.”

Emily pressed one button then another. And then, suddenly the music stopped all together. The screen went dark. “Shit,” she breathed into the now echoing silence of the large open floor plan home. She should’ve brought Garcia along instead. 

“Hey! What’s the big idea?” Rossi’s perturbed voice echoed from the living room. Caught red-handed, Emily wandered back to the seating area trying not to look too guilty. “Slight technical difficulties?” she said, trying and failing to hide her tipsy amusement. 

“That better be fixable, young lady,” Rossi scolded sternly, though she knew he’d had too much whiskey to really care. She didn’t think she’d done any real permanent damage, and if she did, she could probably recruit the resident tech genius to help resolve it later.  She looked over at said-tech genius, but Penelope just groaned and snuggled in closer to Derek’s shoulder, “Not tonight,” she whined good naturedly, “I’m off duty!” 

“Well, we gotta have some kinda music,” Derek argued. It was true, thought Emily, that Derek never went far without his headphones and iPod for entertainment on flights, but she suspected he wasn’t overly cut up about the loss of Pavarotti specifically. The tilted smile she received when she looked over at him confirmed this. 

“Oooh!” Penelope surged forward excitedly, almost spilling her wine as Emily and JJ had learned she was apt to do on girls’ nights. Everyone turned to face her, though Rossi seemed more focused on the relationship between her drink and his couch than her train of thought. 

“Reid can play for us! Can’t you, Reid? Oh, pleasee” she turned around to point towards the baby grand piano Rossi had tucked into view across the floor and near his winding staircase. 

“I didn’t know you could play, sir,” Seaver said to him, sitting back down. 

The older agent shrugged, “I can’t. It belonged to my first wife, Carolyn, but she didn’t have room for it in her new place in San Francisco, and I never felt like selling it.” Emily felt it probably held more significance to him than Rossi’s casual air suggested, but she wouldn’t pry tonight. 

She just turned to Reid who was still hugging his pillow to his chest, tighter than before with everyone’s gaze now on him. “It’s not a bad idea,” she said softly, “What about it, Reid? Have you been practicing on your keyboard?”

Reid blushed and started picking at the fringe around his pillow. “A little bit, but I’m not sure I’m ready to play for an audience.”

Morgan rolled his eyes and nudged Reid’s leg playfully before turning to Garcia and saying in a mock-whisper, “that’s code for I’ve been playing for two weeks, and I’m already Mozart.” She giggled.

“Actually-” Reid piped up, “comparatively, I’d fall horrifically behind Mozart, he could play the clavier flawlessly by age five and wrote his first symphony when he was only eight-years-old, though in his later years, he tragically suffered from increasing deafness and degeneration of his auditory nerve-”

“Kid,” Rossi complained, while Hotch said “You should play, Reid,” kindly, but firmly. 

Reid ran a hand through his short hair, messing up his already wild bangs. “Okay,” he said quietly and stood. 

“My man!” Derek wolf-whistled, while the girls all clapped and cheered. Reid couldn’t suppress his embarrassed grin as he plodded in his socks across the hardwood.  They all grew hushed and watched curiously and intently as Reid took his place at the piano bench. He slowly brought his hands to the keys and took a pause to settle himself. 

Even from her chair, Emily could appreciate how well his long fingers must lend themselves to playing. His odd, lanky elegance suited itself well to the beautiful instrument. Suddenly, the idea of Reid playing on a little stand-up Yamaha seemed pitiful. He obviously belonged right there with something worthy of his grace. 

And then he started playing. 

And Emily’s breath caught in her throat. 

Never for a minute did she doubt that Reid would take to learning piano with the same vigor and success he tackled all his intellectual endeavors with (well, aside from learning Spanish), but nothing had prepared her for the way his arms seemed to move across the keys. 

They didn’t flow, not at first. The beginning chords were powerful and intense, and he struck the notes with a sort of intensity and confidence Emily normally associated with him having a breakthrough on a case. She wanted to smile at how fitting it was.

Reid, who was always overlooked and underestimated in their line of work, whose gun never fit quite right and who looked awkward with nothing to do with his hands. Reid, who was fierce, and powerful, and dangerous. Reid, whose hands were now moving with a focused grace and rapidity she couldn’t have imagined from someone who was usually somewhat clumsy when thinking too hard. Reid, who she was so proud of and proud to know. 

She could see him lightly biting his lip and furrowing his brow in concentration as the complicated piano movement swept through the room, filling every nook, echoing across the high-ceilings.  _ Talk about surround sound _ , she thought.

Her team members were all equally enraptured. Garcia looked a bit teary-eyed. Emily was proud of her for coming up with the thoughtful gift to Reid in the first place. 

Rossi had his eyes closed, whether overcome by the emotion of seeing his ex-lover’s piano played or just by the music itself, she didn’t know. Hotch, well he looked like a typical, stern Hotch to anyone else, but Emily could note the softening around his eyes and jaws, the proud parent look he normally reserved for Jack.  Even Derek looked too humbled to crack an “I told you so” smirk, and his close-lipped smile was soft and genuine, his eyes glued to his “Pretty Boy”, something flickering in them Emily couldn’t place yet. Even Seaver’s eyes were wide, and she looked impressed. 

_This would have JJ in pieces_ , Emily thought felt with another stab of yearning. 

All too soon, but also years later, Reid finally eased off the keys and pedal after one final flurry of powerful chords. 

“That was the first movement of Beethoven's Piano Sonata No. 8 in C minor, commonly known as Sonata Pathétique, it was written in 1798 when Ludwig was 27 years old and was published in 1799 when he dedicated it-”

He was interrupted as Garcia had jumped from her seat and run over to give him a surprise hug. He tensed at first in surprise, then eventually relaxed into it and grinned shyly when he heard Garcia sniff into his shoulder, “That was so beautiful, boy genius!” 

“Thanks, Garcia,” he muttered. He leaned into the hug more, and Emily imagined they were both thinking about the keyboard the team gave him, that he must’ve known Penelope was behind all along. “For everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YouTube link to the movement Reid plays:  
> https://youtu.be/79gzdskOGu4
> 
> Link to my Reid-inspired Spotify playlist:  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6Qf4jPGPiLoQCJR9mMWpvO?si=2j0-oYlzQlybIVI7Qd87pQ
> 
> And yes, this can definitely be read as pre-slash or with "shipping goggles" for Morgan/Reid and/or JJ/Emily ;)

**Author's Note:**

> Link to my Spencer Reid inspired Spotify playlist:  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6Qf4jPGPiLoQCJR9mMWpvO?si=UPGbHiwjRQGHqBznrAMrAw


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